Lonesome warriors
by LowKey Locksmith
Summary: Murtagh gets rescued by none other than The Son of Hades, Nico Di Angelo. After a brief battle, they become close friends, finding company in their similar history...
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, so I don't own any of the characters, or ideas. I have Christopher Paolini and Rick Riordan to thank for them. This is my first post, and I would love responses. Enjoy!**

Chapter I: Eternal Wanderer

Solitude was nothing new in Murtagh's life. Since he was a boy, living in fear of his abusive father, Morzan, one of the Empire's last Shur'tugal, solitude appealed to him, at first as a balm. Later, for years, as he fled the empire, hunting in the Spine, he was wary of any encounter, until Eragon. Even with their brotherly rivalry, and near fatal duels, his younger brother looked to him to compassion. But now, as the empire fell, and he and Eragon had overthrown Galbatorix, he and his only true friend and dragon Thorn fled North, solitude returned like a well known friend. It wasn't that he didn't invite it. He'd had his chance to join Eragon and the Vanir in victory. But he was afraid they might not really accept him. He was rash, too determined, cared for few, saved for Thorn, Eragon himself, and (though it pained him) Nasuada. He had betrayed the Empire in the end, but even that was more out of stubbornness than any allegiance to the Elves. It was better this way. He scratched Thorn's scaly forehead, gazing toward the foothills. Determination will always set us apart, my friend, Thorn said in his mind, those bold enough to face themselves, shall seize a better fortune. Murtagh looked at his dragon thoughtfully "But how can I search for something I don't even know exist. My entire identity is back there, and I won't die a vagabond." An amused growl came from Thorn's throat. _Have faith_. _We shall soon find one whom we can acknowledge as a brother._ Murtagh stroked the scaly beard of his dragon. "Time to hunt," he said. The Northern mountains were abundant with wild elk and deer. He grasped his bow and scabbard of arrows. Thorn, at his side sniffed the air, catching a scent of what would become the prey. A deer peered into view behind a bush. Knocking an arrow into place, Murtagh pulled back the bow, and let fly, immediately ending the deer's life. He was ready to approach to clean it, when Thorn let out a warning growl _I sense something_…_wait. _Thorn approached the prey when, out of nowhere, a trio of dogs all pounced on the dragon. They were all black, and each at least fifteen feet long, with long claws and ruby eyes. Pinning him with their combined weight, they started biting at Thorn's hide. Roaring in pain, the dragon snapped at them, but was soon overpowered by the dogs. Murtagh, for his part, was launching arrow after arrow to no avail. It simply seemed to annoy the dogs. He yelled and raised his palm, using and energy shaft, and crackling ruby energy launched from his palm. It hit one of the hounds, and it disintegrated into a powder on the spot. He brought out Zar'roc and charged the beasts. And a huge paw slammed into him, launching him into a boulder wall. His vision immediately faded as he saw his friend attacked, while a dark shaggy creature walked toward him.

**I plan to introduce Nico Di Angelo next chapter...**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II

My first instinct was to attack. I've seen some strange events in my short, miserable life. As a demigod, monsters the size of buildings, ghosts, magic so powerful it could change what I see, none of this is shocking to me. That said, the scene before me was astonishing. A red dragon the size of a battle tank was striking back against three of the biggest hellhounds I've seen. I honestly didn't know which monster to kill. As I brandished my sword, a blast of ruby energy glistened from off to my left and with a yelp, one of the hounds disintegrated. Then a griffon attacked the source of the energy, and I heard a cry off to my left. I yelled in determination and joined in the violent frenzy. I attacked one of the hellhounds first, it's mouth trying to chew the armored scales of the dragon, as it roared and blasted white-hot flames into the air. Careful to avoid the inferno, I swung the sword, arcing upward, and my Stygian Iron blade drank the darkness and vitality of the hellhound. The other dog growled at me, its red eyes glaring with hate. It sprung at me, and I jumped to meet it, avoiding its claws and slashed downward, the sword melting it into dark powder. The dragon was watching me, but seemed hesitant to attack. Gasping, I backed away, and dove face first as the griffon soared over me. I grimaced as the dragon met the griffon in midair, and crunched its shoulder with its powerful jaws, destroying it. I scrambled to my feet and saw an unconscious man before me. He was tall, about 6 feet, and had the same raven hair as my own. I knelt over him, thinking. He had a red sword in his hand, and was clearly dangerous. If I saved him, would he double cross me? I shrugged and pulled his arm over my shoulder, rose to my feet and started walking, until the dragon's tail smacked me in the chest, sending me flying backward. I staggered to my feet, and the dragon snarled at me, circling the man, as if protecting him. I put my hands up in a gesture of surrender and said in a low voice,

"It's okay, I won't harm him." The dragon stepped back, but its eyes never left me as I walked toward the man. I took some water from the flask at my side and sprinkled it on his forehead. I took a cloth, and drenching it in the water, laid it on his forehead. I sat back, and he groaned. I turned my head, and saw the dragon lowering its head, like it was bowing, its eyes thanking me. As I turned back, the man had healed faster than I expected and had his red sword tip at my Adam's apple.

"If you move, I'll slit your throat."

**So I'll leave that as a cliffhanger. Please give advice and comment.**


	3. Chapter 3

**It's been a while. I'm sorry this didn't come out sooner... I was busy being a teenaged moron. Anyway thank you all for commenting, with suggestions and all the encouragement.**

Murtagh leveled his Zar'roc, and rose to his feet. Keeping his eyes on the person before him, he looked for any sign of the assailant dogs or the creature that attacked him, but they were not in sight. His dragon was lying nonchalantly beside the figure. Murtagh regarded him. He had dark black hair. His clothes, much too big for his size were all black, and were of an odd material. At his hip swung a jet-black sword. His eyes revealed that he had seen sadness, despair. He was clearly a seasoned warrior, with those intense eyes and serious expression. What intrigued Murtagh, was that he couldn't have been any higher than his chest standing up. He was looking at a boy, not quite a man. Murtagh glanced at his dragon.

_This rogue slaughtered the beasts that attacked us. I may not know of his intentions, but he is not of Alagaesia. _The dragon spoke in his mind.

"_Rsa,_" Murtagh said. The boy just looked up and scowled. The boy grimaced

"Put the sword away, and call off your cursed dragon." Murtagh's eyes brimmed with anger. He had run from Alagaesia to avoid such interactions. For a year, Thorn was the only thing he cared about. His bond didn't deserve the insults, but nobody wanted them near. He had not suffered through so much to replace gratitude with a boy insulting him. He yelled and lashed out, hitting him with the back of his hand. The boy cried out, and unsheathed his sword. It appeared to absorb the shadows around it. He slashed upward, but Murtagh parried it. Murtagh kicked him in the chest, sending him sprawling backward. Thorn tucked his paws underneath him lazily. _You are my master, my rider and my friend, but if you choose to fight someone whom you don't know, it will be yours alone to win._

The boy got up, and clasped his hands together. At Murtagh's feet, the ground erupted, and a skeletal hand reached upward, grasping Murtagh's ankle. Murtagh stumbled, and the skeleton got out, brandishing a silver blade. Murtagh faced the corpse. "_Thrysta vindir," _he thought, lightly flicking his hand. The skeleton was propelled 40 feet backward. Murtagh advanced slowly glaring at the boy. "You have skill, young one, but it is unwise to cross a Rider without allies." The dark boy retaliated, cutting a gash on Murtagh's left, by his rib cage. Murtagh winced, but just muttered _"Waìse heill,"_ and the wound closed itself, fully healed. The boy and he exchanged blows, trying to stab, and slice each other, parrying in a whirl of crimson and black. Murtagh started going on offense, stepping forward with his strokes, pushing the boy backward, overwhelming him. Zar'roc raced toward the boy's defenseless arm, smacking it, making him drop the weapon. _"Letta,"_ he thought, and the boy fell backwards, suddenly bound by invisible chains at his wrist. Murtagh sheathed his sword. He didn't want to hurt someone so young.

The boy smiled, knowingly, and suddenly the skeleton, reassembling itself put its hands around Murtagh's throat. In spite of being nothing but bones, Murtagh gasped for air. He struggled trying to break the bony grip, but was getting weaker by the second. He couldn't keep both the boy down and stay conscious. _"Brisinger,"_ he thought, putting all his energy into the one feeling, and the world around him burst into flames, incinerating the skeleton, leaving not one bone in sight, and a sphere of smoldering gravel around him.

The boy far enough to be spared from the flame, and sprung at him, freed from the spell. Murtagh gasped for air, when the boy gripped him by the shoulder, and suddenly they both pitched downward into their own silhouette. Murtagh found himself rushing forward, the boy still gripping him. _"Jierda, sem vanyalì eka_" and they shimmered back into the Spine, their momentum making them tumble down a slope. When at last they came to a stop, they were both tired. The boy glowered at him, and crawled toward him, eventually finding the strength to charge. The boy raised his sword. Murtagh made no attempt to block the blade, and instead, said "_Slytha, Sunvadar hlaupat._"( sleep, shadow runner) The boy winced and collapsed, unconscious at the foot of the slope. But the struggle for air, the plummet down the slope, and the shadow-traveling had left Murtagh exhausted. He called out to Thorn, and then lay down on his back, breathing hard, and closed his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you all for the reviews. I'm thinking of doing a chapter on Murtagh's point of view just to add variety. Should I? **

**I'm sorry this took so long to post, I've been burdened with the laborious endeavors of a student, harassed by the diabolical plots of teachers in what I can only assume is an attempt to kill me: Homework… yeah, anyway please review. **

**Nico's POV: **

I woke up feeling like I was back in Tartaurus, my body aching. I vaguely remembered fighting someone. The view around me brought it back. I had been beaten badly. The man with the red sword was collapsed on the ground, but was talking to the red dragon. I propped myself up on my elbows, looking at them. They hadn't noticed me yet. I was thinking of escaping, but I was too weak to shadow-travel, especially after being stopped last time. It felt like I was belly-flopping into water-a painful shock as my body entered a different medium, where time flows differently. I had come close to fading shadow-traveling during the Giant War. Besides, I had nowhere to go. No, shadow traveling was out. I started to smell food-delicious deer over smoldering flames. I listened in on the conversation. "…shouldn't help him. He was trying to kill me, which would have killed you. _He_ should apologize." The dragon looked amused, and twitched its tail. "Umaroth said we wouldn't encounter danger beyond our ability to master. That doesn't mean he'll be useful to us." The dragon rider glanced at me. Startled, I scrambled to my feet and considered trying to run. He got up and studied me. It felt like a slight headache, as if he was probing my mind, studying me. Defensively, I wrapped my jacked around my shoulders.

"I'm…I'm sorry for the battle," He muttered. I just shrugged, wishing I had tried to sneak away from him. After a minute of uncomfortable silence, he looked back at his dragon. They seemed to have a silent argument going on.

"Thanks for saving my dragon," his voice had an edge of bitterness. I knew how he felt, hating to admit having to rely on someone. Having a grudge; knowing deep down you owe a debt.

"Don't mention it," I replied with the same coldness. I didn't like it any more than he did. I turned around and started meandering toward a few trees to my left. I was almost out of earshot, but then,

"You don't know where you're going, do you," he said, knowing he was right. Not bothering to face him, I continued,

"I'll get by," I ventured, trying to convince myself.

"It's 3 days to the nearest town on foot," he started walking toward me, "You may as well get some stew, unless you want to starve." Annoyed now, I turned toward him, scowling. I had expected him to taunt me with the clean kill, rubbing it in my face, but he gestured to a log next to him. Cautiously, I treaded toward him and we sat down. Murtagh began tearing the deer apart with his sword, preserving the meat. I glanced around me, finding only mountains and trees. We were on a dirt road in a canyon.

"Where am I?" I asked.

Murtagh looked up from his cleaning of the deer carcass. "The Spine. I apologize for the sword. You saved my dragon. My name is Murtagh, son of Morzan. This is Thorn." _You have lots of skill, half-blood._ I looked at Murtagh with surprise. "Did he just speak in my mind?" Murtagh smiled. "Yes, as a dragon, if the rider approves, you and he can communicate," he explained. His face melted into a frown. "What did you mean by _half-blood?_"

I took a breath, "He means, I'm only half human. My father is an Olympian. My name is Nico Di Angelo, son of Hades."

Murtagh glanced at me. "I don't know what that is, but why don't you eat with us?" he said handing me a plate of deer steak. I glanced at it, but it was cold. "Do we cook it?" In reply, Murtagh muttered "_Brisinger._" The steak heated up enough to eat in seconds. I stared at Murtagh in amazement. He just shrugged, and started eating.

"How did you do that?" I whispered.

"As a dragon rider, I learned magic. When a rider speaks the Ancient Language, Elvish, he can do all sorts of things. That word, Brisinger, means fire." Murtagh explained. "In Alagaesia, there are a few people who can bond with the dragons, and become riders. Hopefully they create peace for the land." He grimaced as if remembering something unpleasant. "if not, well, this land is easily swayed by power. I've left it far behind." For being a kindred spirit, leaving the past was something I knew all to well. He turned to me. "A hero as powerful as yourself must have an astonishing past." My eyes widened, realizing he wanted to hear my story. "From where did you come?" I tried to make the words form, but I ended up stuttering out

"I'm from the past…" and began telling him everything.


End file.
